EIGHT YEARS LATER
"Are you nervous?"
"Why would I be nervous?"
"Because we've never done this before."
"There are lot of things we haven't done before."
Damian chuckles and holds the door open as we enter Starkton High School for the very first time. "Only you would be so blasé about the start of freshman year."
I shrug my shoulders. "Ninth grade will be the same as eighth grade. The only difference is the four walls surrounding us."
"This is high school, Layla. At least pretend to be excited."
"Oh, I'm excited. I love school. I've always loved school."
He smiles. "Yeah, only because you're so smart."
I like school for a lot of reasons, most of them having to do with Hank Dodds and his inability to torture me while I'm here. My intelligence is just a bonus.
But my best friend doesn't need to know that.
"So are you finally going to ask Jessica out?" I inquire as we locate our lockers. Fortunately, his is adjacent to mine. "You've only been crushing on her for two years."
"Everything about her terrifies me. Jessica Jermain is a goddess, and I'm a mere mortal. Even if I had the gall to talk to her, she'd probably laugh in my face."
"You're not wrong. She's a narcissistic bitch." I open my locker and shove my empty backpack inside. "Her little sidekick, Janelle, is no better."
Damian rolls aquamarine eyes. "You don't even know them, Layla."
"Neither do you."
I'm not usually a judgmental person. I pride myself on being open-minded and accepting, but Jessica is a walking cliché. Not only is she the most popular and most beautiful girl in this deadbeat town, but she's also a cheerleader, head of homecoming committee, and the girlfriend of Evan Miller, the quarterback of the Starkton High Piranhas. I could tolerate her if she wasn't so High School Musical.
Or, you know, if she treated people better.
"Maybe this will be the year you make a new friend," Damian teases, giving my shoulder a nudge.
I turn to him and smile. "I have you. I don't need anyone else."
Damian and I have been best friends since kindergarten. Neither of us have ever truly connected with anyone else. We've had other friends along the way, but nothing that lasted. We always joke that people are intimidated by us, that we're too "unapproachable."
I'm beginning to think it isn't a joke.
We both have our secrets. He has his unexplained teleportation ability that I've spent countless hours in the library researching but still don't understand. I have my dad. We've built our walls to keep ourselves safe. Maybe we're keeping everyone else away, too.
"So... there's something I need to tell you," Damian announces.
I shut my locker and look at him. "What is it?"
"Well, I...." He lets out a nervous breath. I can almost hear his racing heart. "I'm trying out for the football team."
"No, you're not. Try-outs were at the end of last year. You missed the deadline by three months," I say matter-of-factly.
"There are still a few spots open," he replies. "I think I want one of them."
"Since when? You've never had any interest in football before."
"Since... now."
Jessica Jermain and Janelle Brooks walk down the hall, each wearing a cheerleading uniform. I notice the way Damian's eyes linger on Jessica and cringe.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"Jessica. She's the reason you're trying out. You want to be closer to her."
He shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe. So what?"
"It's pathetic."
"It's not just about her. I do like football."
"What position do you want?"
"Linebacker."
Damian does look the part. From what I know of the sport, which isn't much, the linebacker is always tall and well-muscled.
"You have all your... smartness. I want an activity for myself," he says.
"Intelligence isn't a hobby. It's a personality trait that I just happen to possess. I didn't choose it anymore than you chose to have blue eyes or be six feet tall."
"But reading books and spending all your free time at the library is a hobby. Maybe I want something like that."
I cross my arms over my chest. "Can we talk about this later? We're going to be late for first period."
"Layla," he says, "I'm not asking your permission. I'm telling you what's going to happen. Even if you don't approve, I'm still trying out."
With a half-smile, he walks down the hall. I'm tempted to follow, but I don't. If he's going to join the football team, I ought to get used to spending more time alone.
I let out a sigh, aggravated with Damian but more so with myself. We're so god damn codependent. I should be excited for him. Instead, I'm a mix of anxious and envious.
Ultimately, I decide that being a good friend is more important than being right and head to the football field after school to watch the tryouts. Damian looks adorably goofy in his shoulder pads and helmet. I wave to him from the bleachers. Even from a hundred yards away, I can see his eyes light up as he waves back.
Coach Wright blows his whistle, and everyone gets into position.
"Blue forty-two! Hut!" Evan Miller shouts before everyone disperses and runs from the center of the field.
I try to follow the game, but I don't understand football, and, to be blatantly honest, I've never been more bored in my life. I reach into my backpack and take out my calculus homework.
"Calc, huh?" Someone sits down next to me. "Do you have Mrs. Fitzpatrick? I hear she's a bitch."
I look up from my notebook and see a girl wearing a plaid mini skirt, a tight black tank top, and shiny combat boots. Her blonde hair has been pulled back into two buns, and her dark eyes are lined with black pencil. Her rosy lips part into a smile as I assess her.
"Your eyes are super green," the girl goes on. "Like, greener than emeralds."
I shake my head. "That isn't true, but thanks."
"You never told me who your calc teacher is," she replies. "Is it Fitzpatrick?"
"Yes, actually," I tell her, closing my notebook. "And, yes, she is kind of a bitch."
"Nice." The girl smirks. "What's your name?"
"Layla Dodds," I answer.
She extends her hand. "I'm Ada. Ada Fitzpatrick."
I can feel the color leaving my face. "You're... you're her daughter?"
"I am." Her eyes twinkle with mischief. "Don't worry, though. I can't stand the miserable harpy. Think she's bad at school? Imagine her at home."
I shudder, recalling the amount of homework she gave us on the first day. "I'd rather not think about it."
"Smart girl." She eyes my calculus book. "Must be really smart to be in her class. You a junior?"
"Freshman," I correct her.
Ada's eyes widen. "You're fucking with me."
"Nope."
"You must be. Freshmen don't take calc, never mind calc with my mother."
I shrug my shoulders. "I tested out of algebra."
"Holy shit. You really are smart," Ada whispers.
From the field, Coach Wright blows the whistle. I spot Damian sprinting back to the centerline, wiping sweat off his forehead.
"He your boyfriend?" Ada asks.
"Damian? No."
"But you're here for him, right?"
"He's my best friend."
Ever since boys stopped being repulsive and became a topic of interest amongst my female peers, everyone began to question my relationship with Damian. They assume that we're dating, and when I correct them, they assume I want to date him, which I don't. He's my friend. My best friend. But that is all.
"He's kind of cute," Ada murmurs, twirling an unpinned lock of blonde hair. "Really cute, actually."
"He's single," I tell her.
"Not my type." She turns to me. "I don't like nice guys. Never have. Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Like nice guys?"
I give up on finishing my homework and shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. I've never liked a guy before."
"You've never had a boyfriend?" she asks with wide eyes.
"Nope."
"You're something else, Layla Dodds."
I chuckle. "Believe me, I'm nothing special."
"We should hang out sometime," she says. "Not at school, I mean. You should come over my house for dinner."
I glance toward the field. Damian has the ball, and he's running toward the field goal. He throws the ball through the yellow posts, causing the players on the field to holler.
"That's a good thing, right?" I ask.
"Yeah, he just scored a touchdown," Ada replies.
"Oh, okay. Go, Damian!" I shout.
"See, this is why you need me. You may be school smart, but I'm real world smart."
I put my notebook into my backpack. "You actually want me to go over your house?"
She nods her head. "I do."
"Fine. What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow I have a thing, but I'm free tonight."
"Tonight?" I suddenly feel nervous. "I... I don't know."
She grins wickedly. "What? You scared you might actually have fun?"
"I'm not scared." A lot of things scare me. Ada Fitzpatrick isn't one of them. "Alright, I'll see you tonight."
Still smiling, she takes a pen and a notebook out of her bag. She tears out a sheet of lined paper and jots down her address and her phone number.
"Come over at six," she instructs. "Try not to call. My sister's, like, always using the phone, so you probably won't be able to reach me."
Ada stands up and walks away. I feel weird. Was Damian right?
Will this be the year I finally make a friend?